


Slipping

by plaidbaby



Series: Bless the Little Children [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Child POV, Children Under Stress, Gen, John Is Always The Dearest, Mental Health Issues, Moriarty is Not Immune to Feeling of Paternal Inadiquacy, Moriarty is Plotting Plots, Paternal!Moran, Paternal!Moriarty, That Plate was Probably Really Expensive, Unconventional Families, When You Only Love One Person, You Love Them Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-06
Updated: 2012-07-06
Packaged: 2017-11-09 06:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidbaby/pseuds/plaidbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John doesn't want to go away he again.  He wants to stay with Mr. Jim.  Mr. Jim wants him to stay too.  </p><p>Sequel to My Love, My Sweetness, My Dear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slipping

**Author's Note:**

> This is either going to be good or really disappointing, I'm not quite sure which. For all of you lovely people who have waited so long, if this is incredibly horrible please accept my fervent apologies. Also I seriously took half an hour trying to think of a title. So sorry about that.
> 
> Now with a translation by Kayren, who is brilliant enough to find a Spanish word for frenemy, here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8399640/1/My_Love_My_Sweetness_My_Dear

Some of the other kids needed help with their little container boxes. But John could get his container lid off his container box all by himself. He put the rubber lid next to his box and pulled out a blueberry. Today was a blueberry day. Blueberries were good for him, they had anti- anti- they had antioxythingies which was good for him.

After he was done have lunch he was going to play boats with Tommy. He didn’t like boats especially but Tommy liked boats and no one else would play boats with him. John liked to be nice. He told Mr. Jim, “It makes me feel happy inside to be nice,” because it was supposed to be good to express his feelings like a grown up. Mr. Jim’s face went funny and strange and said, “What if they’re stupid?”

“Then I will say,” said John with supreme authority, “don’t be sad because you are stupid, I’ll still be your friend.”

Moran snorted a laugh from where he was cleaning his gun. It was okay to watch even though he wasn’t to touch it.

“Don’t laugh at him,” Mr. Jim said in his scary voice.

“He wasn’t,” John had said and patted Mr. Jim nicely so he wouldn’t be scary. “He’s just happy. He smiles that smile whenever he’s happy.”

“Just making sure he’s good to you. That’s his job. To be kind to you and not laugh.”

“What’s my job?” John said, covering his face and his scratchy jaw and his ear with lots and lots of eskimo kisses until Mr. Jim was smiling again, his big nice smile. He liked that face better than a frowny face.

“To believe whatever I say,” Mr. Jim said and then he started tickling John who still squealed when he was tickled. Then John was on his back being tickled. Mr. Jim tickled just perfect, not too hard or deep only so that he could laugh and still breathe good. “You’re the best Johnny. My love, my sweetness, my dear. Better than everybody else. Better than me.”

Moran made a funny sound when Mr. Jim said that and Mr. Jim told Moran to shut up and he called Moran a naughty word and told him to go away and put his head on John’s chest for a while. Mr. Jim’s head was heavy, but he moved it after a while so John didn’t complain.

“I love you,” Mr. Jim said and kissed him on his hair in between. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He put his arm around John and then he fell asleep. John didn’t think he was better than Mr. Jim because Mr. Jim was brilliant, and the best, but he would try to be good and believe. Also he wasn’t tired, but Mr. Jim was so he lay very still and thought about owls because owls were brilliant.

He tried to think about boats when he played with Tommy, but it was boring so he thought up stories to tell Mr. Jim. When it was time to go home Moran came to pick up John, not Mr. Jim like he thought it was going to be. That was okay because Moran did that when Mr. Jim was busy. “Hey little man,” Moran smiled his big smile and clapped his hands. “Bring me your bag, it’s time to go.”

He held Moran’s hand out to the car so Moran wouldn’t get lost, but it wasn’t the everyday shiny black car.

It was the going away car. 

John stopped, digging in his toes, feeling them go all scrapey against the pavement. He leaned sideways against Moran, hiding his face behind his big leg. The going away car was awful and nasty and it smelled gross and he hated it, he hated it and didn’t want to go away. He didn’t like Wales he had nightmares there and he cried on accident afterward, not on purpose. Not on purpose, he was a big boy. And Mr. Jim said he would call but he _didn’t_ , he didn’t for _a really long time._

“Hey,” Moran said all soft and nice. “Stiff upper lip. What’s going on? Was someone mean to you today?” He put his hand on John’s head and rubbed his fingers in circles.

John shook his head.

“Just tired then? We’ll get you home, how about that?”

John looked up at Moran; he had a bear on his shirt underneath his coat. “Go home to the flat?”

“I don’t know of any other place,” he smiled and opened the door for John before jogging around to the other side. John jogged sometimes at The Gym, it was Moran’s gym. Moran watched and said he did a good job and he was starting to teach John how to do rolls. He could roll forward in a ball all by himself now. John wasn’t allowed to go to the pool to swim though, in case someone was mean to him and held him under the water. People did that sometimes but afterward they died. John didn’t want anyone to die so he didn’t even ask even though it looked like a lot of fun because there was a slide.

“Are we going to the flat right now?” John asked.

“Yeah little man,” Moran said and reached for his cigarettes before he stopped. He wasn’t meant to smoke around John.

John sat back in his seat and pulled one heel up onto the seat so he could practice tying his trainers. After a little bit he stopped and leaned forward to look out the window. He didn’t like the going away car, it smelled funny. “Moran?”

“Yeah little man?”

“Are we- Are we going to the flat right now though?”

“Yeah we are, straight there.”

“Okay.” He bit on the squishy part of his thumb a couple times because he wasn’t a baby and only babies sucked their thumbs. He leaned against his safety belt to look out the window and see if anything looked familiar. “But-”

“John, we’re going to the flat alright, right now, right this minute I am driving you to the flat where we live. Stop asking, alright?”

“Sorry,” John said in a little voice and Moran put his big hand on his head. John wanted to go to the flat right away and hug Mr. Jim really tight. He felt like he wanted Mr. Jim to carry him again. He knew that he was getting too old to be carried around, because it was only a really tired thing and a about to go to bed thing. But if he hugged Mr. Jim really tight for a long time then he would carry John anyway. But he didn’t want Moran to be mad at him.

“I’m not mad at you little man, alright?”

John nodded under the heavy hand, he sat quietly until they pulled into the parking garage and Moran got out to look around and let John out of his side. It was never okay to get out of his side by himself; he was only to let Mr. Jim or Moran to open the door for him.

“Come on,” Moran laughed, picking up John’s backpack, “since you’re so anxious to get home.” He grabbed hold of Moran’s fingers so he wouldn’t break the out of sight rule and run ahead. He was going to be calm like Moran when he was shooting tigers. Sometimes Moran had to sit high up and watch tigers for a long time and he couldn’t come and watch Mr. Jim and John. Moran hunted a lot of tigers, John thought that he would see a tiger on the street some time, but he never did. When he asked Moran’s face went funny and he said not to worry about it, they were secret grown up tigers. 

When they got to the elevator Moran pushed the button. John bounced on his heels, swinging back and forth from side to side, “Its sloooow. Why is it so slow!”

“You’re just in fits today aren’t you?”

The elevator doors went _bing_ and swung open, he ran inside impatiently pressing _seven, seven, seven, seven, seven._ John made his head go back so he could blink at Moran, he didn’t think he was in fits. He wasn’t meant to be in fits, they were loud and misbehaving. When kids in his care center had fits they had to sit in the corner. “No?” he tried and kissed the back of Moran’s hand in case he was. “Sorry.”

Moran bumped him with his leg gently and it made John giggle and bump Moran back. “Ooh!” Moran said and stumbled a little like it had hurt him. But it hadn’t, that was just pretend. _Bing_ went the door and John let go of Moran’s fingers to run to the door and bounced on his toes until Moran unlocked it for him.

John ran as fast as he could through the door and ran past the living room (no Mr. Jim on the laptop) and into the kitchen (no Mr. Jim making sandwiches). _Where was Mr. Jim,_ where was Mr. Jim _where was mr jim mr jim mr jim…_ Mr. Jim wasn’t in the toilet and he wasn’t in John’s room. He tried to go for Mr. Jim’s office but Moran caught him up and lifted him holding him up in the air. John screamed his biggest scream at the top of his voice. Moran said a curse and John kicked at him. “Hey little man. Stop that, what’s going on?”

John screamed his biggest scream again.

“What the bloody hell are you doing to him?” said Mr. Jim from the hall and John lunged toward him.

“He just started screaming at me! I didn’t do anything to him! He just went into hysterics!” Moran yelled back in his angry voice. John lunged even harder in Moran’s grip toward Mr. Jim. He had to grab hold of Mr. Jim. He had to grab hold of him _right now._

“You’re doing something to him right now! John doesn’t just _go_ into hysterics, he’s _John._ ”

“I know a _lot_ of holds; this is _not_ a painful hold.”

Now Mr. Jim and Moran were fighting and John’s tummy felt squeezy and his face felt hot and all big and his throat felt bad from screaming his biggest scream twice. He bawled and wiggled.

“Give him.”

“James.”

_“Give him to me.”_

“I didn’t _do_ anything to him.”

“He’ll have to be dealt with one way or the other.”

Mr. Jim took John’s middle in his hands and Moran let go of John’s arms and John _lunged_ forward and locked his legs as far as they would go around Mr. Jim’s waist and put his arms around Mr. Jim’s neck. He made sure to put his arms _tight_ around Mr. Jim’s neck and squeezed really hard so Mr. Jim couldn’t make him let go, “I don’t want to go to Wales!” He pressed his face as hard as it would go into Mr. Jim’s shoulder. “I don’t want to go to Wales!”

“Hush,” Mr. Jim said and put his arms around John which was better than just John putting his arms around Mr. Jim. “Hush. You’re not going to Wales. No one’s going to Wales. Who said anything about Wales?”

“I didn’t say anything about Wales.” Then Moran’s voice changed, “Don’t get like that James. Not while you’re holding John. If you’re going to get that face on put him down first.”

“I’m not, later I will. My baby is throwing a fit about Wales.” Mr. Jim started to mutter to himself like he did when it was thinking time. “I was here this morning. He’s used to just you picking him up sometimes. We told him this morning. You were on time.”

“I’m always on time for the little man. I’m always on time full stop.”

“What did you drive?” Mr. Jim said and held his arms tight around John and put his head against Mr. Jim’s neck where he could hide his whole face.

“Just my car, he’s been in my car before. The Benz still has the inside of Mr. Ramirez’s head all over it.”

The curve of Mr. Jim’s neck smelled like Mr. Jim, like grown up smell from the bottle on Mr. Jim’s dresser, and of crisp white shirts and candied ginger which was the sweet that Mr. Jim liked but John didn’t because it made his mouth all tingly. Mr. Jim put one of his hands on the back of John’s head; it was strong and made him be closer. “My love,” Mr. Jim said all soft and nice. “My sweetness. My dear. Don’t you fret. Don’t you fret. You’re fine. I’m here. I’m here. I’m never going to-” Mr. Jim stopped then, and swallowed really hard, John could feel it against his cheek along with Mr. Jim’s stubbly hairs. It was quiet then and Moran was quiet then and the whole stupid apartment was quiet and John wanted to kick something, or jump, but not like a happy jump. 

“I’m here,” Mr. Jim said very quiet and kissed John on his head. “Sebastian, you are an idiot of such colossal proportions it boggles the mind. I mean you are so exceptionally dull it would be a mercy to _bash your head in.”_

Moran didn’t say anything.

“The last time you stuck my baby in that poor excuse for teenage rebellion you call a car you hauled him off to Wales. Is that enough of a hint as to what set my dear off into a panic?”

Moran didn’t say anything.

“You scared him,” Mr. Jim said in a scary voice. It was a cold wiggly voice like the time John was little and accidentally picked up a little wiggly garden snake and not a stick like he thought and he couldn’t get it to go away from his hand. “That was terribly thoughtless of you.”

Mr. Jim took his hand off John’s head and took a plate off the worktop super quick and hit Moran on his face with it so it made a loud hurty sound and so Moran’s head twisted and the plate broke into three parts. But Moran didn’t make a sound because he was a soldier and soldiers were tough.

The two parts fell on the floor and John could hear them break so he made a scared sound and hide his face again.

Moran had his face turned and his eyes closed and was breathing slowly _in_ and _out_ , _in_ and _out_. Mr. Jim was breathing all funny, like skipping stones.

“Bit not good Mr. Jim,” John said in a little voice because that was a mean thing to do. Moran was his friend. Also he wanted Mr. Jim to be happy and not sick because after he was sick he slept a lot and was sad because he couldn’t play with John. 

“Sorry sweetness,” Mr. Jim said with his funny voice and dropped the plate. The final part broke on the ground. It was a loud sound. John covered his ear with the hand not fisting Mr. Jim’s shirt. “Moran was just being bad and needed to be punished. It’s his fault you got so scared. He was the one who was bad.”

John pulled his free hand and twisted as best as he could so he could reach out and remain attached to Mr. Jim at the same time. His fingertips touched the big sad pink spot on Moran’s cheek. “It’ll be okay Moran. I’m not mad. I love you.”

Moran made a funny breath and Mr. Jim did a funny shiver like he was cold. “My sweetness, my dear my love,” he said. “My little cuckoo’s egg,” John didn’t know what that meant, but Mr. Jim’s arms were firm around him, holding him close.

Moran cleaned up the broken plate since it was his fault, but John put a kiss on his hand to show it was okay and not to be sad. Mostly because it was Mr. Jim’s fault too and Mr. Jim wasn’t being a helper. Then John sat in Mr. Jim’s lap, which he hadn’t done in a long time because he was getting to be a big boy but he wanted to today, and practiced his reading. 

“Literature is boring,” Mr. Jim said, leaning into the corner of the chair. “We should do maths,” he ruffled John’s hair.

Moran made a sound from the kitchen and Mr. Jim leaned his head back, looking up. After a little bit he said, “I can hear you thinking all the way from out here. Just say it.”

“He may be a little too young for calculus.”

Mr. Jim ruffled John’s hair a little and he shifted so that he could lay against Mr. Jim’s side and have his arm over his shoulder.

“I can tell you a story,” John said sleepily.

“Go ahead love,” Mr. Jim said and put his cheek against the top part of John’s head. 

“Once upon a time there waaaaaas… two little kids who’s mum died and their new mum was really awful. She made their dad take them into the woods and them there. So they were walking around really sad when they… wait, wait I forgot apart, they had bread crumbs, but the birds ate them. So they were walking and they saw a whole house made of sweets.”

John liked to tell the story, he like to lay with his head going up and down on Mr. Jim’s chest and Mr. Jim rubbing his back in big circles. That made John very happy.

At dinner they had raviolis that Mr. Jim had made, because only Mr. Jim and Moran were allowed to make John food and John talked about playing boats and Moran told him a story about Singapore and the tall buildings and the temples and John had to use his Dari if he wanted any ice cream. “Good job little man,” Moran smiled at him. He had a big thin cut on the tall part of his cheek and it was all darkpurpleblue. They were suppose to pretend it wasn’t there. Everything else seemed very quiet though. Moran and Mr. Jim kept having grown up conversations with their eyes.

John was really tired from earlier, all fuzzy and foggy and so he kept blinking. 

“Shh,” Mr. Jim said from his end of the table. “Shh baby. Shh Johnny.”

“’m not. ‘M not,” John said scrubbing at his eye because he wasn’t a baby. Mr. Jim stood up and picked John up again and John held onto him really, really tight and let Mr. Jim feed him raviolis with his fingers. After a while he went all sleepy and tucked his face against Mr. Jim’s shoulder when he tried to feed him more.

They talked then over John’s head, John wanted to listen but he didn’t know. He tried to listen to their grown up words. He knew they’re important, but everything was just out of reach. The words are too big and funny. “It won’t be enough,” Moran whispered over John’s head. “Not without you protecting him. He’ll be a target. If you try to step down, slip away, they all come down like a wave.”

“You’ll kill them then,” Mr. Jim whispered in his sweet nice voice. It made John feel a little crawly so he curled tighter into his arms. “You’ll kill them all.”

“Even I have limits Boss.” Boss is Mr. Jim’s sometimes name for the office. That was because Mr. Jim was the best and in charge of everybody.

“I’ll have to find a way to take everything apart then.”

“We can’t. I can’t at least. I’m fairly sure you could do anything. Maybe most of it, some well-timed accidents. But you put everything together too well, you were too brilliant. Too perfect, but you know that already.”

John stirred, wiggling the fingers curled under his chin so they wouldn’t get sleepy and tingly.

“Shh,” Mr. Jim said. “Shh,” and he rocked John a little again. That was nice and good. John yawned and snuffled as Mr. Jim pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Sleep sweetness.”

John did feel sleepy and tired. Also fumbly inside because of being scared earlier.

Mr. Jim was talking to Moran now. John knew because when he talking to John his voice was nice, but when he talked to Moran he talked like he was in charge. When he was in charge his voice was deeper and it would making a scrapey sound. “How off-putting. I worked so hard arranging things too. If only I could be around to do it, it might actually be a little fun,” he petted John’s hair all gentle. “I’ll be quite cross in the morning. Arrange for my full interrogation kit and one of the Devlins. They’ve always been so _annoying_.” 

“Yes Boss. I’ll go collect tonight.”

“Get a glass of water for him before you go,” Mr. Jim started to pull John away. This made John sad. “Shh,” Mr. Jim told him. “It’s just time for bed.” 

“Duck cup?”

“Is there any other kind?”

He put John on the bed and put his hand over John’s head and petted him. Only like for a person, not for a dog or a cat. He untied John’s shoes one at a time and then his socks and squeezed his feet like he did when John was little and would have nightmares sometimes. It felt nice. He pulled off John’s jumper and his trousers (first one leg and then the other Johnny, this one’s left and this one’s right) and Henley (arms up, wiggle, one arm and then the other now) and helped John into his pajamas. The snuggly plaid ones. He pressed the little snapped buttons together one at a time so they went _snap, snap, snap._ That was the sound his buttons made. When John was in his pajamas rubbed John tummy where it was achy.

“Today was a hard day wasn’t it love? Does that feel better? It always made me feel better to rub my tummy when I cried a lot.”

“I love you Mr. Jim,” John said very softly.

“I love you too,” Mr. Jim said in a soft little voice. “You have no idea how special you are.”


End file.
